Stiles learns to love honey
by bashfyl
Summary: "sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are"


Stiles wakes up slowly. His whole body aches. The sound of dripping water is abnormally loud in his ears. As his mind starts to clear he remembers why.

The alpha of this ragtag pack of interlopers thought the best way to send a message to the pack was to take Stiles. Take Stiles, bite him, and then once the change is made send him back in under his new alphas orders to assassinate from within. He really could have done without the villainous monologue, but it was kind of nice to know what to expect.

He guesses that not being dead means that the bite took, but he doesn't feel wolfy. He gives his bonds a little tug, testing them and himself, and finds he is not tied as securely as it seemed he was before, so super strength, check. Next he try's to reach out with his hearing, he had been hearing the murmur of voices from the other room but not the content and he had a feeling the content was important.

"Ok Stiles focus" he tells himself.

He knows he has to anchor himself so he begins thinking mantras, "The sun, the moon, the truth. Mom, Dad, Pack, Scott, Derek." He focuses on the voices in the other room.

"Can't we at least keep the women?" A voice says.

"No" growls the alpha, "But those little girls they've got, we can keep them, train them up right."

Loud raucous laughter follows this statement and that's when Stiles' control snaps. They want to take his god daughters, precious Akiko and little Madeline and train them up? NO!

His body begins to morph and contort, but not into the beta wolf shape everyone expected. No, instead Stiles sprouted black fur over most of his body, with the exception being a broad white stripe that ran from the top of his head to the base of his tail. He slipped his bonds and landed on all fours. He looked down at his paws and saw huge long claws that looked as if they were made for maiming.

In his new form he was around two feet tall from foot to shoulder and around five feet long from snout to ass, his tail giving him additional two feet. Once his shift was complete he let his new instincts take over with only one solitary thought in his head, "protect".

He snuck out of the room he had been held in and went in search of wolves who were not in with the main four. They were easy to take one on one, and even two on one wasn't hard. They grabbed at him, but his new body had loose skin that allowed him to twist and turn even in their grasp. They tried biting him, but couldn't pierce his skin. One by one they died until only the core four remained.

They knew by now that their pack mates were dead, but they couldn't figure out how. The Beacon Hills pack hadn't arrived to save the day, no howls sounded through the quiet night, and there was no way a lone freshly turned werewolf could take out that many skilled fighters.

The alpha was enraged, and Stiles was thrilled with it. He bided his time and when he got an opportunity he struck. He was fast and brutal and vicious. Easily taking out two of the remaining pack before he felt a sharp pain in his side. The alphas second had managed to stab Stiles with a very large knife. We are talking Crocodile Dundee big knife here and if the burning was any indication the blade had been poisoned.

Stiles feels himself beginning to slip away as the two remaining wolves grin above him. The last thing Stiles hears before falling unconscious is the second cackling about his knife work.

Mere minutes pass and Stiles is once again conscious, apparently his new body processes poison easily. He quickly shakes off the last of the sluggish feeling he has and attacks the wolf who had stabbed him, quickly leaping up tearing the wolfs throat out with his teeth and riding his body down to the floor.

He turns bright blue eyes on the enraged Alpha, roaring like a bear. The two leap at each other, their bodies slamming into each other, ripping and tearing. In the end only a bloody, tired, furry Stiles remained and he had only one thought in his head. Home.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDS

The pack were gathered at the Sheriffs house preparing to get back out there and look for Stiles when they heard the scratching at the back door. The wolves hadn't sensed anything approaching the house, but as they focused on the door they heard Stiles' familiar heartbeat.

Scott rushed over and threw the door open and then just as quickly jumped back from the doorway as he and everyone else took in the view before them.

"What even?" Scott says.

"Stiles?" Derek asks.

"What's that in his mouth?" gasps Liam.

"Is that an arm?" asks Kira.

Stiles wanders past them all and curls up on the little rug in front of the kitchen sink. He holds the arm between his feet and goes to gnaw on it when there is a loud, "No!" Shouted at him in his dad's voice. His dad approaches him and every bit of his body language is screaming "how is this my life?"

"We do not gnaw on people! Drop the arm Stiles!"

Stiles heaves a big sigh. He really thinks he deserves to be able to gnaw on this amazing bone after everything he has been through today, but he isn't going to argue with his dad about it. Stiles drops the arm and allows his dad to take it away. He gives them all his best approximation of puppy eyes. Derek caves first, pulling a chicken out of the fridge and bringing it to him. Stiles begins to consume the chicken, bones and all, while the others gather just outside the kitchen.

"What is he?" Scott asks.

"Honey badger," Lydia says sounding very amused.

There is a flurry of typing as the various pack member look up honey badgers on Wikipedia and youtube. There are some mumbled "oh my gods" and "holy shits", and one amused "things make so much more sense now" before everyone aside from Derek and the Sheriff adjourn to the living room to wait for Stiles to change back and tell them all what happened.

It takes a good hour, some comforting cuddles and scratches behind his ears, and a declaration from his dad that he loves him no matter what for Stiles to be able to regain enough control to change back. It takes another hour of scrubbing himself nearly raw to get the feeling of blood off him and get him dressed and presentable. By then he is really to tired to tell the pack much more then the address of the warehouse he had been kept in.

After he passes out, Scott, Derek, the Sheriff, and Chris Argent all go and check it out. What they find is not something any of them ever want to speak of again. They can't help but wonder what the wolves had done to incite this kind of rage in Stiles, but it makes it very clear to all of them that no longer will anyone ever again consider him the weakest link.


End file.
